


when the lion is in the room

by Caissa



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 14:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13615077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caissa/pseuds/Caissa
Summary: Hannibal has been wondering about the nature of daemons.





	when the lion is in the room

He is always amused by the aesthetic composition of their sessions. He and Bedelia mirror one another, their posture relaxed but alert in the womb-like cocoon of her living room, daemons purring gently at their feet. Osiris and Austėja mirror each other as well, two sleek and smooth cats of prey, Osiris’ fur as midnight dark as Austėja’s is honey white. The small golden woman and the dark-haired man, the jaguar and the lioness. The light in the dark and the dark in the light like yin and yang. Like the squares of a chessboard, the white queen against the black king. He likes it, this balance, and he suspects Bedelia likes it, too.

The session ends and he follows Bedelia into the kitchen to help select their customary glass of wine. Osiris and Austėja linger back. He cannot hear their words, but he feels an electric charge of intimacy. It is the first time Osiris has left Bedelia’s side in his presence. They are very provocative, he thinks, the tiny woman and the large powerful daemon.

_“Hidden depths,” he’d commented to Austėja after their first meeting. “She has an attraction to the dark.”_

_“More than that,” the lioness replied. “He is guarding her. He feels protective of her.”_

_“Why does she require protection?”_

_“A mystery worth solving.”_

“Red or white?” Bedelia’s question interrupts his reverie. “Or perhaps you’d prefer the rosé again?”

“The rosé. It is a fine day for it, neither too hot nor too cool. Perhaps we might have a drink out in the garden, in honor of the warm spring weather we are enjoying.”

It is a deviation from their routine and he can see her hesitate, weighing the consequences in her mind. But the warmth of spring and the world waking from winter’s slumber proves too tempting and she leads them both onto her terrace, the stones glowing in the heat of the afternoon sun. Robins chirp above them in the trees and the air is thick with the scent of green grass and forsythia and other growing things. It tingles the blood.

Osiris and Austėja frolic on the lawn, more like young kittens than their regal selves, chasing after the voles in Bedelia’s garden. “Spring fever,” Hannibal comments. “They have caught it, too.”

Bedelia sips appreciatively, lips as pink as the blush colored wine. “It has been a long winter.”

Hannibal’s eyes drift again, watching the cats at play, alike and different at once. “I have been thinking about the nature of daemons…yours and mine.”

“In what way?” Bedelia asks with a lift of an eyebrow. He must tread cautiously here, waltzing across the nightingale floor where he is not her patient but neither is he her friend.

“It is unusual for two in our profession to have such large cats as daemons, is it not? Many doctors have snakes as daemons, in honor of Asclepius, the healer. Intellectuals favor birds in my experience, evidence of their quick minds and flights of fancy.”

“Such an obvious predator can be intimidating for the patient, you mean.”

“It was not intimidating to me,” Hannibal says, unable to suppress a huff of indignation.

Something mysterious dances in Bedelia’s eyes and a muscle twinges near her jaw, as if she is repressing a smile. “No, you wouldn’t be. You are not easily intimidated.”

He remembers the first time he pulled back the door and saw them together. It had made him feel reassured, that this was a woman of great mastery. Perhaps one who would finally see him. “Others would say it takes a strong personality to share company with such a powerful creature.”

Bedelia’s gaze drifts down to her wine glass—the liquid sparkles like pink sapphires in the sunlight. “Jung believed that daemons are external manifestations of the soul. Anima and animus he called them.”

“Yes.” Hannibal follows Bedelia’s gaze to where Osiris and Austėja are. They are playing closer now, tails practically intertwining. Their souls are mingling out there in the grass. It fills him with a heat, makes the air shimmer with possibility. It would be nothing, nothing at all for his hand to grasp hers and at last bridge the distance between them. “Imagine a world in which there were no daemons. How little we would know of others’ souls and secret wishes.”

“Hard to conceive of such a place. The very thought is unnerving.” She drains her glass and rises. “Would you like some more?”

“Please,” he says.

Bedelia retreats to the kitchen and Osiris saunters after her. As he walks by Hannibal, the large cat fixes his emerald green eyes on him, wary yet respectful. The minute they disappear through the glass doors, Hannibal feels a pinprick of loneliness at the loss of Bedelia’s company, silly though that is. She is but a few feet away and yet it is like the sun has gone behind the clouds.

Austėja comes and butts against him with her golden head. “Go after her. Kiss her.”

“Bedelia is my psychiatrist. If she were any other woman, I would.”

“She wants you to. Osiris told me. He says it is your arms she imagines around her every night when she goes to sleep,” Austėja tells him in her husky purr.

“I was not even aware Osiris liked me.”

Austėja relaxes at his feet and begins to groom herself in the warm sun, blithely unconcerned with the intricacies of the human heart. “He is merely protective, as I have told you. You have proven yourself. She needs a mate, in his opinion. And so do we. It is very simple.”

Before Hannibal has time to correct her Bedelia has returned with the bottle of rosé. As if to underscore her point, Austėja rises and goes to Osiris, casting a challenging look over her shoulder. The two large cats nuzzle one another, ebony silk and ivory velvet fur melding as one. Hannibal feels warm and giddy at once, like a schoolboy receiving his first kiss. His eyes meet Bedelia’s and they are the mirror of the sky on a summer’s day, inviting and gentle and open. Her lips are parted, cheeks tinged a rose pink not found in any cosmetic counter. He rushes toward her and the space between them feels effervescent, like he is gliding on tiny bubbles of champagne instead of stone and earth.

He kisses her briefly; long enough, though, for her to let out a soft moan. “Our souls and minds and intertwined, and have been for some time,” he tells her, gesturing toward where their daemons are curled around each other at their feet. “Why should are bodies not be also?”

Hannibal waits for her to protest, to stop them, and when she doesn’t he kisses her again and again until she wilts in his arms.

Later, after the sun has gone down, streaking the white curtains of Bedelia’s bedroom ruby and bronze, she rests her head on his sweat-slick chest. He is content, they both are, and satiated, happier than he can recall being in years. Bedelia turns her face upward toward him as he runs his hands through the cornsilk gold of her hair.

“Why today?” she asks, very simply.

“Ah,” Hannibal says, feeling something like a blush, “Austėja told me that Osiris told her that you were ready. She is very instinctual, you see.”

“Is that true, Osiris?” Bedelia asks. Her voice sounds reproachful, but he can tell from the languor of her body, the pressing of the soft mounds of her breasts against him that she is far,  _far_  from displeased.

The jaguar looks up at them, a brief pause in his task of grooming Austėja’s fur with his rough sandpaper tongue. “I was tired of waiting. You were, too.”

A quiet rosebud smile appears on Bedelia’s lips; her silence is her agreement. She relaxes against him. Hannibal begins to nuzzle her hair, hands wandering over the smooth skin of her backside, and she all but purrs, like an animal that adores being petted. They mirror the two great cats curled together the foot of the bed. The light in the dark and the dark in the light again, forever and ever in perfect harmony.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Notpersephone/Bedeliainwonderland for encouraging me to write this one and sharing my love of daemons. I just read _La Belle Sauvage_ and remembered how much I loved this universe. 
> 
> Osiris comes from Egyptian mythology--felt it an appropriate way to symbolize Bedelia's attraction to the underworld and the darkness. The name Austėja is taken from Lithuanian mythology--the goddess of weaving and bees. Bees for Hannibal's inner light and for Bedelia, our "queen B." ;)


End file.
